Fullmetal Hogwarts
by fighting-dreamer179
Summary: When transported through the gate to save his brother's life, Ed finds himself stuck at Hogwarts. He must protect those around him from the dangers of both worlds while searching for a way back home. Crossover of Harry Potter and Fullmetal Alchemist FMA .
1. Chapter 1

_How can I repay you, brother of mine?_

_How can I expect you to forgive?_

_Clinging to the past, I shed our blood _

_And shattered your chance to live._

* * *

Edward could feel those wretched creatures of the gate pulling at his body, drawing him in. He was revolted by their touch, but he didn't care. This was for Al. He would do anything for his brother to live.

--

Harry clapped a hand to his burning scar. "Ow," he mumbled.

"What's wrong with you, Potter?" Draco snarled, the lantern shaking in his hands. The Forbidden Forest was no place to be at night or any other time. His father would hear of this.

"Shut up a minute, Malfoy, I'm trying to listen. There's something up ahead."

"Are you trying to scare me, Potter? Well it won't work. I'm not a coward like you and that snivelling Weasley," Draco retorted, his voice betraying him.

Something flickered in the shadows ahead. "Argh!" Harry cried out as the blinding pain returned. "W-who's there? Show yourself!" Draco called. "My father is important! I could have you arrested for this!" he said, mustering all of his bavado. The shadow made no reply. Draco snatched up a nearby stick and held it up defensively. "S-stay where you are!"

The shadow crept closer, slowly reaching with its hands as if to choke the life from the nearest living person. Harry cried out again as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.

His eyes darting about in fear, Draco turned and fled, crying out incoherently for the shadow not to kill him. The lantern light bobbed furiously as it faded into the dark.

The shadow turned to Harry, its menacing hands reaching for him now. Harry tried to resist, but the pain was too great. He was going to die...

A shout from behind and the sound of metal against metal drew Harry's attention. Struggling to focus, Harry saw the shadow hurriedly backing away into the forest and a short blond boy dressed in black standing where the shadow had been just a moment before. "Who are you?" Harry tried to ask, but he had no strength left to form the words and fell into unconsciousness.

--

Harry awoke to find himself in Madame Pomfrey's hospital wing. "You are awake, I see," said a kind voice. "Dumbledore," said Harry, suprised. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"Hermione and Ron will be pleased to know that you are feeling better. However, the person that you truly owe you thanks to is this young man," said Dumbledore, moving aside to reveal the young alchemist lying in the bed to the right of Harry. The boy's face was covered with sweat, and his lips were murmuring in troubled sleep. Harry faced the headmaster. "Will he be all right?"

"Madame Pomfrey was of the opinion that this young man has suffered a severe shock, but he should recover in no time."

--

Edward floundered about in the darkness, straining to breathe. He reached for Al, but just before their hands touched, his brother's hand disintegrated. Edward recoiled in terror as his own body began to break down.

"Brother!" Al cried, desperately begging Edward to save him.

_"Alphonse!"_

Edward sat up, gasping for air. He heard the murmur of voices on his left and glanced over to see the boy he had saved earlier talking to a white-haired old man dressed in a flowing robe. "Where am I?" Ed asked, testing his voice.

"Ah, good, you have awoken," replied the old man, adjusting his spectacles. "You are presently located in Madam Pomfrey's hospital at Hogwarts. However, I would be very pleased to discover by what means you happened to come here, young man."

"Hogwarts?" asked Ed, confused. "I've never heard of such a place."

"Most people have not," replied Dumbledore, "but then again, most people do not enter the Forbidden Forest unnoticed and fight off Voldemort single-handedly, now do they?"

"So it was him, then?" Harry asked quietly. Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"Who are you talking about?" questioned Ed.

"Voldemort," said Harry, as if it was obvious. This did not help Edward at all. "Who?"

"How can you not know?!" Harry exploded. " He's the one who-"

"That's enough, Harry," Dumbledore reprimanded gently. He turned to Ed. "What is your name?"

Straightening, Ed replied proudly, "I'm Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Dumbledore sat back in suprise. "Well, Mister Elric, wherever you are from, you certainly are a long way from home. The age of the alchemists ended several hundred years ago."

Edward was stunned.

"Ishbal, Lior, transmutation: do these words mean anything to you?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No more than the words Hogwarts, England, or Muggle mean anything to you."

Edward tried one more time. "What about the Philosopher's Stone?"

For the second time that day Dumbledore's impeccable demeanor was replaced by astonishment. "How do you know about that?"

Ed gave a small sound of self-contempt. "I've spent most of my life searching for that thing. That's the reason I started learning alchemy in the first place. Of course, once I knew the truth about it I tried to stop, but we were already involved," he said bitterly. Clutching his head, he muttered, " I can't believe I was so _stupid!"_

Harry looked at the two of them, unsure of what to say. Just what was going on?

--

As Dumbledore closed the door of the hospital, Madame Pomfrey walked up to him. "Dumbledore, sir, I'm not sure how to say this, but there's something you should know about that boy."

"What is it?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"He has no arm!" Madame Pomfrey cried hysterically. "It's just a chunk of metal! His leg is the same way!"

"Well, that is interesting," Dumbledore mused.

"This is not amusing, Headmaster!" puffed an irate Madame Pomfrey.

"Of course not, Poppy," Dumbledore soothed, deep in thought. "I'll be in my office for a little while. There is something I want to look up," he murmured absently, leaving a still-indignant Madame Pomfrey in his wake.

--

Harry was assaulted by two worried voices the moment he set foot into the Great Hall.

"Oh, Harry, are you all right?" cried Hermione, wringing her hands in apparent anguish.

"Did you really see You-Know-Who? Is it true that the blond kid faced him alone?" demanded Ron, his feckled face scrunched into an expression that pleaded for answers.

"Where is he from?"

"Who is he?"

"What's his name?"

Harry held his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the bombardment of questions. "Enough already! I don't know who he is. He said his name was Edward Elric, and he mentioned something about being an alchemist, but beyond that he didn't seem to want to say much. He didn't seem to know anything about magic, either."

"That's strange," commented Hermione. "I thought the alchemists went extinct centuries ago."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore seemed really suprised, too. Not too long after that he left the hospital, and Edward didn't want to talk at all, so that's all I found out."

"Well, whoever he is, we should keep an eye on him," stated Hermione firmly. "For all we know he could be after you, Harry."

"What!" shouted both Ron and Harry incredulously. "Hermione, he saved me from Voldemort!" Harry interjected. Wincing at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, Hermione continued, "That's exactly my point. It's the perfect way to get you to trust him. No doubt that's what You-Know-Who would think."

Harry paused, remembering that night. "Now that you mention it, Voldemort sort of gave up almost too easily..."

"Then that settles it," declared Ron." We'll have to keep watch on him as well as Snape from now on, as long as it takes!"

The three friends nodded their heads in mutual agreement.

--

Voldemort hissed in fury. Foiled by a mere child! He had sworn once before to never let that happen again, but against his will, control of his own destiny eluded him. "Quirrel," he seethed, "Find out whatever you can about this _Edward Elric._ When the time comes, kill him. I will not have some Muggle brat destroying all I have worked for."

"B-But my Lord, there is no information on the alchemists anymore," stuttered Quirrel fearfully.

"THEN FIND SOME!" roared Voldemort. "Look in the library, you dimwit!"

"B-but what if it's not there?"

"You're a teacher; go look in the restricted section."

Quirrel gave a little yelp, but he dared not deny his master's order. "Y-yes, my lord, I w-will obey," he stammered, a feeling of dread growing inside him.

--

Edward flexed his automail experimentally. At first he wondered why it was still attached, but then he decided that the gate had taken his real limbs again as payment for returning his brother's body. The automail had probably been left inside the gate and just happened to attract to him when he passed back through.

Pulling his blove back on, Ed decided not to show anyone his metal limbs. After all, who knew how they might react? That man, Dumbledore, seemed suprised that he was an alchemist, which was to be expected, but there was something else bothering him. It was Dumbledore's reaction to the mention of the Philosopher's Stone. "There's definately something fishy going on at this place," he thought, gazing pensively at the automail which Winry had so lovingly constructed. "Besides, I know what happens when people get involved with the Stone."

Ed was so deep in thought he almost didn't hear Dumbledore's knock at the door. "Hello, Edward. May I come in?"

"Sure," he replied, subtly repositioning his hand under the sheets.

"I met with the other teachers. We have agreed to let you stay here as a student for as long as you need. That is, until you are able to find your way back home."

Ed smiled at the irony. "Thank you, sir, but I don't really have a home to go back to. The only family I have is my brother, but I have no idea whether he's still alive or not."

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said sympathetically.

"No matter, I'll just have to do what I can on this side, right? After all, that's what we've always done," he laughed. "I'm sure there's a way back. I'll find it if I just search hard enough."

Dumbledore looked at him with new respect. It took a strong man to keep his optimism in the face of such sorrow and and even stronger man to keep his smile.

Pushing up his spectacles, the headmaster continued. "You have arrived rather late in the year, I'm afraid, but with your background in alchemy I'm sure you will catch up in no time."

"Thank you, sir," Ed said quietly. "I look forward to it."

* * *

****

This is a story about what would have happened if Edward ended up in England instead of Germany when he went through the gate. Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and the song at the top is the FMA theme "Brothers" in English sung by Ed's voice actor, Vic Mignogna. The video can be found on youtube.


	2. Chapter 2

Edward sat quietly, allowing the awkward silence to continue.

"So," began Hermione nervously, "What do you think of Hogwarts?"

"I don't know yet," Ed replied. "I haven't really seen much of it other than the hospital."

"Well that's great!" Hermione said brightly. Blushing, she corrected, "I mean, not that it's a good thing you were hurt, but this would be a good opportunity to show you around before classes begin." Grabbing Harry and Ron's wrists, she said, "Come on, you two," dragging the protesting boys out of the common room. Shrugging, Ed followed.

The first problem appeared when they tried to take the stairs. The three friends had already climbed onto the steps when Ed let out a shout of suprise.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione anxiously.

"The stairs are moving!" Ed stammered, pointing at the stairways floating around them.

"Oh, don't worry," assured Ron. "They do that all the time. It's normal, really."

"But - that's impossible!" insisted Ed.

Ron scoffed. "It's just magic."

Edward paused, thinking he hadn't heard correctly. "Magic?"

"It's - never mind, we'll show you. Come on," Hermione said, leading the way, "We have Transfiguration next."

--

Ed took the seat behind Harry just as the teacher began to speak. "Good afternoon, class." Glancing over in Ed's direction, she said, "I see you decided to join us this time, Mister Elric." Ed smiled nervously as all eyes turned toward him. "My name is Professor McGonagall. I trust that you will pay attention to your lessons, unlike some of my regular students.

"In today's lesson you will be transfiguring a mouse into a matchbox, like so," she demonstrated. She waved her wand and the mouse emmitted a tiny squeak of suprise before its white fur changed into the delicate wood of a matchbox.

Immediately Edward shot to his feet, startling the students around him.

"How could you do that?" he shouted, enraged. Once again, all eyes were on him, but he ignored them.

"I do not understant what you mean, Mister Elric," answered McGonagall, perturbed. "Would you please return to your seat so that I may continue teaching?"

"No, I will not!" yelled Ed furiously. "Not until you tell me why you are teaching these things to children! Human and animal transmutation are forbidden!" Some of the students stared at Edward, frightened by his outburst.

"Therein lies your mistake, Mister Elric," said Professor McGonagall stiffly. "This is Transfiguration, not Transmutation."

"Don't try to hide behind a name! It's the same basic principle. You think you can just toy with creatures' lives like that and never have to pay the consequences, but that's where you're wrong. Not even the Philosopher's Stone has that power," Ed growled.

Professor McGonagall became visibly whiter. "How did you find out about the stone?" she whispered, shocked.

"You know, that's the second time I've been asked that recently," Edward stated cooly. "Care to tell me about it, or do I have to find out myself?"

"Well, that's all in the past now," said McGonagall, composing herself. "Dumbledore mentioned that you were an alchemist, but I seriously thought he was joking. Now I see it is the truth." The students were looking back and forth between her and Edward as if one of them would explain what their conversation was all about.

"Mister Elric, this is not alchemy, however much you may wish it to be, and I cannot allow a student of mine to disrupt my class in this fashion. Fifty points from - what house are you in?"

"He hasn't been Sorted yet, Professor," said Hermione timidly.

"Very well. Detention then, Mister Elric. You may wait out in the hall until class is dismissed," McGonagall commanded, pointing a finger at the door.

Ed stalked out of the room.

--

The blond alchemist was still steaming when the class finally let out. As Harry and his friends passed by, Ron frowned, and Hermione averted her eyes.

"Sit down, please, Mister Elric," said Professor McGonagall formally, gesturing to an empty chair.

Recalling his frequent visits to Colonel Mustang's office, Ed replied, "No thanks, I prefer to stand." He was not about to fall for any intimidation.

McGonagall tightened her lips primly. With a simple flick of her wand the chair sped forward, knocking Edward behind the knees and forcing him to collapse into the seat. His automail gave a dull, metallic thud as the wood smacked up against it, but McGonagall made no sign that she heard.

"Mister Elric, your conduct is unacceptable," she reprimanded severely. "I doubt you are aware of this, but alchemy is no longer practiced. Over five centuries ago alchemists reverted to the use of magic, and since then the primitive magic of alchemy has become a lost art."

"You still haven't told me why you people are teaching criminal practices to mere kids," demanded Ed.

"Magic works in a different way than alchemy. There is no need for fancy circles or unnecessary sacrifices, just a wand and some knowledge of spellworking."

"Unnecessary?!" raged Ed, slamming both hands on McGonagall's desk. "What about the principle of equivalent exchange? Did you throw that out, too?" He clenched his hands. "It's not what you think. You got what you gave, that's all. None of it was unnecessary."

Straightening her spectacles, McGonagall replied, "I have never heard of this equivalent exchange."

"Never mind, it didn't work anyway," answered Edward, his anger draining.

McGonagall softened. "I suggest you look at the world a little more closely, Mister Elric. You may see truths you never expected to find." She leaned back in her chair and gazed at Ed's rebellious expression. "I will talk with the headmaster concerning your punishment. You are free to go."

Nodding, Edward stood up and walked calmly out of the room.

--

When Ed entered the Griffindor boys' dormitory where he was currently staying, he was greeted by silence. "What?" he asked flatly.

"You really shouldn't have done that," spoke Ron. Though he said nothing, Harry's face showed that he agreed with his red-haired friend.

"Where I'm from, transmuting animals is a serious crime. There's a reason why it's forbidden," answered Ed. "I should know."

"Oh," said Ron in a small voice. "Well, that makes sense."

"Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall both seemed suprised that you were an alchemist," said Harry suddenly. "Why is that?"

"Dunno, really," shrugged Ed. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not from around here."

"So, what does alchemy do, anyway?"

Grinning, Ed clapped his hands together. "This."

Placing his hands firmly on the floor, he transmuted the wooden boards into a perfect image of Alphonse's armor. Harry and Ron gaped in awe.

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them. "What was that flash of light just now?" demanded Seamus Finnigan, panting slightly from his sudden exertion. Then he saw the statue.

"Wow."

Ed smiled. "That's nothing," he said, clapping his hands together again and returning the statue back into the wood. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel a little sad as he watched it disappear.

"That was awesome!" declared Seamus. He turned to Ed. "Did you do that?"

"Yep."

"You have got to teach me how to do that!" he said emphatically.

"It takes years of careful study and practice," Ed told him realistically. "Some people never get good at it."

"Oh," said Seamus, crestfallen. "You mean I can't just clap my hands like you did?"

"Hardly. Very few alchemists can transmute without a circle. In fact," Ed continued, "Including myself, only four are capable of it."

Seamus was impressed. "Well Harry here is the only one to have ever faced You-Know-Who and survived. Some people call him The Boy Who Lived."

Ed looked at Harry, who was staring down uncomfortably. "That happened a long time ago," he said quietly. "I'm only alive because my parents are dead."

Ron and Seamus shifted awkwardly.

"You know, when alchemists join the military they're given a special name, too," Ed mentioned off-handedly. "I was known as the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"What do you mean, 'you were in the military'?" questioned Ron. "We don't have a military."

"Er...never mind, forget what I said," Ed responded,cursing himself for making such an amateur blunder.

"Cool name, 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. What does it mean?"

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets, fingering the silver watch. "That's a secret."

Harry was just about to inquire further when a loud noise resounded throughout the castle. "Oh no!" cried Ron, horrified. "We're late for Potions!"

Ed watched curiously as the three boys scrambled frantically to collect their books. "What's wrong with being a little late?"

He soon found out.

* * *

**Once again, I don't own FMA. Thanks to all those who read and/or reviewed. Also, special thanks go to Phantom SunSong for the Snape/Quirrel thing, which I fixed.**


	3. Chapter 3

The man they called Snape reminded Edward somewhat of Archer. Both men had ghostly while faces from spending their lives indoors, and both had the most disagreeable personalities, thinly veiled by an apparent lack of emotion. It didn't help that Snape even resembled the deceased colonel.

"Good afternoon, class," Snape said in a greasy voice, completely ignoring Ed's presence. "The instructions are on the board. You may begin. Potter," he sneered in Harry's direction, "Try not to mess this up like you usually do."

Harry clenched his fist in anger. "What's his problem?" asked Ed, referring to Snape.

"How should I know?" said Harry, irritably lighting a fire under his cauldron. "He's never cared for me, and I don't like him either. Here, you can use some of my stuff until you get your own."

--

Snape could feel the boy's golden eyes boring into the side of his head. The young alchemist was incredibly perceptive, dangerously so. He could tell just by looking at the boy that he was carefully guarded, mentally and physically. Unconsciously Snape's lips twisted into a snarl. How dare this lowly Muggle child parade into his classroom pretending to be someone important? He already had one student with an oversized ego; he would not stand for another.

--

Once Hermione explained the basics, Edward found Potions class to be quite easy. With his background in alchemy, Ed already knew how to combine ingredients to produce a desired product, only this time he would be doing it without a transmutation circle. His teacher had made him study elemental compositions for weeks before allowing him to transmute anything.

When Snape finally passed by, he took one look at Ed's handiwork and his face began to twitch. Infuriated that he was unable to criticize anything, he strode over to Neville's desk and promptly proceeded to inform to poor boy that the potion was supposed to resemble a thick orange gravy, not green sewage.

"You're rather good at this," Hermione whispered once Snape was out of earshot. "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Well, I've never mixed a potion before, if that's what you're asking," replied Ed, pouring his finished product into a small glass bottle. "However, Potions does have its roots in alchemy, so it's fairly simple for me."

Edward stood up to hand in his work, but the small glass bottle slipped through his nerveless metal hand and fell to the floor, splintering into a million pieces.

A hushed silence fell over the room. "Well, well, Mister Elric," Snape said almost gleefully. "I see we've had a little accident. Twenty points from Griffindor for breaking school property."

"There's no need for that," Ed countered as he clapped his hands together and transmuted the shards back into their original form.

A few brave whispers of suprise flitted about the room. Most of the students had never before seen Edward's alchemy performed.

Snape's eyes gleamed with a malicious pleasure. "Sixty more points from Griffindor for the unauthorized use of magic within the classroom." He waved his wand and Ed's potion vanished. "You get a zero for the day. Since this is your only grade so far I suggest you work hard to make up for it."

Ed bristled angrily but kept silent despite Snape's attempts to rile him. Harry, however, was unable to control his temper. "That's not fair!" he cried.

Snape slowly turned toward the source of the protest. "Ten more points from Griffindor, Potter. Anyone else have a problem?" he demanded, scanning the students' faces for the slightest sign of rebellion. "I thought not. Back to work, all of you. Class is not over yet."

--

"Why didn't you say anything?" demanded Harry as soon as class let out.

"It wouldn't have done any good," replied Edward calmly. "I've met his type before."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this?" said Harry, raising his voice. "Griffindor just lost ninety points and you're standing there as if you were on holiday!"

"Like I said, I've met his type before," Ed answered. "Yelling at them just makes it worse."

"Is that how it is for you?" Harry retorted angrily. When Edward failed to respond, Harry grabbed the Ed's wrist and shouted, "Answer me, you!"

Ed stopped. "I may not know much about this world, but you don't know anything about me either."

Harry said nothing, merely staring at the young alchemist.

Glancing down at his right arm, Ed continued nonchalantly, "Do you mind letting go now? I don't want to have to hurt your hand by forcing you to let go."

--

Harry felt his hand release its grip. He had grabbed Ed's arm purely on impulse, but he had no idea that it was so cold and hard, so unlike ordinary flesh and bone. It was almost as if his arm were made of something else.

--

Hermione noticed Harry's shocked expression. "Are you alright?" she asked him, concerned.

"Huh?" asked Harry blankly. Then her question registered. "Oh, right, fine. I'm fine," he replied, dazed. "Listen, if you need me I'll be in the common room working on that essay Snape assigned us, okay?" he said as he strode off down the hallway.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other in confusion.

"I'll be in the library," added Edward, starting to go in the opposite direction.

"We'll come, too," Hermione quickly interjected.

Ron groaned. "Hermione, you already know everything about Potions. Why would you want to go to the library again?"

"I just want to make sure I've got this one theorem right," she replied resolutely, clutching her books in defense.

Ed smiled. "I don't mind if you come along. Actually, I'd kind of prefer it."

"Why is that?" inquired Ron curiously.

Edward looked away, embarrassed. "I don't really know where the library is."

--

"I'm sorry, young man, but we don't have any books on alchemy," said Madam Pince, peering over her glasses. "Even if we did, they would most likely be in the restricted section."

"Then can I look in there?" asked Edward reasonably.

"Absolutely not!" she puffed. "That is only for students who are studying how to defend against the Darkest of arts; students who have signed permission from a teacher; students," she added, staring pointedly at Ed's small stature, "who are much older than you."

Edward was about to protest when she cut him off. "This is my final say on the matter."

--

Ron and Hermione watched the dejected Edward stuff his hands into his pockets and shuffle out. "Do you think we should tell him what we found on Nicholas Flamel?" asked Hermione quietly. "He might be able to help us protect the Philosopher's Stone."

"I dunno," replied Ron doubtfully. "How do we know that he wouldn't just turn us over to Snape or Professor Dumbledore?"

"Didn't you see Snape in Potions? He couln't stand the sight of him. It was just like seeing Harry's first day all over again," she reminded. "Besides, I don't think Edward quite trusts Professor Dumbledore yet."

"You've got a point," Ron conceded. "Why don't we talk to Harry about it? Then we can decide what to do. After all, he's got the Invisibility Cloak, so we can't do it without him."

"Sounds good," Hermione agreed and returned to her essay.

--

"You have failed me, Quirrel," Voldemort hissed.

"F-Forgive me, my lord," he whimpered. "T-there's just no longer any information on alchemy left to find. I d-did the best I could!"

"Never mind that now, you idiot, I have a new task for you," rasped the Dark Lord. "The boy knows of the Stone. I want you to bring him to me."

"M-my lord, are you quite sure?" stammered Quirrel. "You are not strong enough-"

"SILENCE!" Voldemort roared. The effort it took to shout sapped his strength, forcing him to pause, and his voice was much weaker when he continued speaking again. "I will do what it takes to acquire the Stone. Once I regain my body I will kill the runt myself. You cannot fail me in this, Quirrel."

"Yes, my lord."

--

As soon as the others were asleep, Edward quietly left the Griffindor dormitory, his automail making small clanking noises as he crept across the room.

As he pulled the fat lady's portrait across the open doorway, she emitted a loud snort but continued to slumber peacefully. Talking portraits could be such a nuisance, Ed thought silently. He still hadn't gotten used to them.

Creeping through the halls, Ed strained his ears to catch the sound of anything besides himself wandering around. He had heard some of the students mention a troublemaker named Peeves, and from what thay said, he was not someone Ed wanted to run into right now.

A tiny noise drew his attention. Spinning around he came face to face with - a cat.

"Heh, only a silly cat," thought Ed, relieved. The cat stared at him with her huge yellow eyes and blinked twice before strutting back the way she came. Edward turned to continue on his way, but something stopped him.

"What is it, my dear?" crooned a voice behind him. "A student out of bed, you say? Well, we can't be having that, now, can we?" it said, drawing closer.

Edward's heart began to beat faster and he raced down the hall as quietly as he could. Panting heavily, Ed finally arrived at the library. Placing a hand on the koorknob, he tried to turn it but found that the doors had been locked. Hoping that no one was around, he transmuted a child-sized hole in the bottom of the door on the left. Dumbledore had said that the castle's structure was protected by various enchantments, but apparently it builders forgot to guard against alchemy.

Ed climbed through and immediately headed for the restricted section. Browsing through the book titles, he saw many in languages he did not recognize, but none on alchemy.

"Enjoying a late-night stroll?"

Dropping the book in his hands, Edward faced the speaker. "Professor Quirrel," he said carefully. "Funny, I didn't figure you for the light reading type." His expression became serious. "But that's not what you're here for, is it?"

"Very clever, Edward," said Quirrel mockingly. "I'm afraid you'll have to come with me now."

Edward's hand touched the back of the bookshelf. "I don't think so!" he retorted, shoving it with enough force to topple it onto the astonished professor.

Quirrel instinctively cast a protective shield around himself which made the shelf bounce off and begin falling toward Edward. The young alchemist tried to escape, but his strides were too short. He fell to the ground, his left leg pinned beneath the heavy bookshelf.

Quirrel grinned triumphantly and cast another spell, which Edward tried to block with his right arm. The spell sent ropes snaking around his body, but Edward quickly brought his hands together and transmuted them into dust, taking some of his sleeve with them. Clapping his hands once more and turned the shelf into a harmless block of wood before tugging his leg free of the massive books which were piled on top of him.

He whirled around, ready to face Quirrel, who had nearly dropped his wand in suprise. "Your leg, your arm - they're made of metal!" he exclaimed.

"That's right, I forgot. You people don't have automail here," Ed commented, inspecting his torn clothing. "Well, just so you know," he warned, displaying his right arm, "these are made by the best automail engineer there is, so they won't fail me now. I'm not about to lose to you or anybody else!"

Suddenly Quirrel began to chuckle. "What's so funny?" Ed demanded.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself. It's just that this is such a coincidence. You see," said Quirrel, unwrapping his turban, "My master has also lost his body."

Edward stared in horror at the face protruding from the back of Quirrel's head.

* * *

**Special thanks go to Phantom SunSong for her continued reviews and helpful comments. This chapter's extra-long, so enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Though I knew the laws, I paid no heed._

_How can I return your wasted breath?_

_What I did not know has cost you dear _

_For there is no cure for death._

* * *

"We meet at last, Edward Elric," breathed the face.

"Who - what are you?"

"It pains me that I can only speak with you in this form," Voldemort sighed. "Quirrel was kind enough to share his body until I am able to return to my own," the face focused its chilling gaze on Edward, "Which I could do - if I had the Philosopher's Stone."

Ed shook his head. "The Stone doesn't work like that. Since it's created through alchemy, you must follow alchemy to use it, and the most basic principle of alchemy is equivalent exchange. In other words," he continued, meeting Voldemort's gaze unflinchingly, "You can't get what you want without giving up something in return."

"As I thought, you do know of the Stone," whispered the Dark Lord in a tone that vaguely reminded Edward of Shou Tucker. "I have already paid my price, Edward. Join me, and I will help you recover your body as well. All I ask in return is that you serve me."

Ed recalled something familiar about what he was saying. "I take it that you're this 'You-Know-Who' person that everyone talks about. Sorry, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. Besides," he added, "it's not my body I'm worried about."

Voldemort's emaciated face pulled into a twisted grin. "You wish to see your brother, I assume."

Edward blanched. "How do you know about Al?" he demanded.

"I can see it in your mind," said Voldemort, closing his blood-red eyes. "I could know everything about you, if I wished."

"Then why don't you?" challenged Ed.

"Because I do not wish to make you an enemy," Voldemort answered, opening his eyes again. "If you join me, Edward, together we will fill our deepest desires."

"I already told you 'no'," Ed reminded bluntly.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Voldemort continued, unfazed. "Of course, I must insist that you keep this conversation strictly confidential. Unfortunately, I am not well received in Hogwarts' circles," he said, his voice beginning to grow weaker. "Consider my offer carefully, Edward - your brother is waiting for you."

Quirrel rewrapped the turban and left the library.

Ed stood in shocked silence for several minutes before he was finally able to move. Almost as if in a trance, he repaired his torn jacket and transmuted the shelf and haphazard pile of books back to where they had stood a short time ago. He crawled back through the hole in the library, closed it behind him, and began to stagger back the way he had come. When he returned to the dormitory, he was able to sneak past without awakening anyone. Falling on the top of the bed, Ed tried to get some sleep, but his mind would not let him. When he finally nodded off, his dreams were of Alphonse, reaching his hand toward his trusted brother as the gate sucked his body in.

--

"Are you feeling all right, Edward?" asked Hermione in concern. "You don't look well."

"I was up kind of late last night," replied Ed tiredly, reaching for a biscuit. "I didn't get much sleep."

"What were you doing?" inquired Harry.

"Er, nothing much," Ed muttered, avoiding the subject. He was about to tear into a second biscuit when he heard a loud screech from above. Ed looked up to see dozens of pirds clutching various packages and swooping down to deliver them to the students.

Noticing Ed's expression, Ron questioned, "Don't they have owl mail where you're from?"

"No," replied Ed, staring at the chaos around him, "I've never even seen these birds before."

Just then one of the owls fley up tho Ed, holding out its leg. "Is this for me?" Ed asked awkwardly, feeling stupid talking to a bird. When the owl nodded, he ook the paper, unfolding it to read the words, "To Mister Edward Elric" on the front. He opened the letter and, scanning it quickly, discovered that it concerned the detention Professor McGonagall had given him. Stuffing the letter into his pocket, Ed smiled ironically. Compared to last night's events, a detention was a very small matter.

--

Hermione fiddled with her napkin before working up the courage to speak. "Harry," she began hesitantly, "I think we should tell Edward what we know about Flamel. I talked to Ron about it, but he wanted to discuss it with you first."

"Hermione thought that since he knows about the Stone he could help us out a bit," offered Ron helpfully.

Harry glanced at the young alchemist, who was silently studying the inside of a silver pocket watch. "You may be right, Hermione. All right," Harry decided,"We'll tell him."

--

"So, where are we going again?"

"Just around the corner," replied Hermione, dragging Edward by his left arm. "There's something I want to tell you."

"I - what?"

Hermione ducked into an empty classrom and glanced about. "Good, there's no one around."

"Do you mind explaining what's going on?" asked Ed irritatedly, liberating his arm from her grasp.

"We haven't exactly been completely honest with you," Harry interrupted, appearing from behind them.

"What do you mean by that?" Ed questioned him.

"We already know about the Philosopher's Stone," said Ron. "Hermione found it in a book. We know about Nicholas Nlamel and that he created the Stone."

"We also know that Voldemort wants it," Harry put in.

"That reminds me," said Edward nonchalantly. "Who is this Voldemort person?"

"He was a murderer," Harry stated flatly. "Most people call him You-Know-Who because they're still too afraid to speak his name."

"What about this guy, Flamel? Did you say he created a Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yes, over six centuries ago. He's lived all these years by making a potion from the Stone - the Elixir of Life. That's why You-Know-Who wants it."

"Is that so?" murmured Ed angrily. "Well, there can't be much of it left now."

"Actually, you're right, it's only around four centimeters in length," said Harry, "But how did you know?"

"Not even the Philosopher's Stone is perfect," answered Ed grimly. "Eventually it wears away, and you have to start all over again."

"What do you mean, start over?" Ron wanted to know.

Ed fingered his silver alchemist's watch. "I doubt you know how a Stone is created, but where I'm from it came at a terrible price, so terrible that even the knowledge of it is limited to a select few. I have no reason to believe that this place is any different."

"What kind of price?" asked Hermione.

"The Stone is made by using human lives," Edward told them solemnly. "This fact was hidden carefully so that only those who had lost everything and were desperate enough not to care would find out. Those people just happened to be me and Al."

The room was silent. "Who was Al?" Hermione inquired in a quiet voice.

"My younger brother," he said simply. Facing them, Ed continued, "If there's someone in this place who was willing to sacrifice thousands of human lives to try to attain immortal life, then I have a few choice words to say to him when I meet him."

"I never imagined that a friend of Dumbledore's could do such a thing," whispered Hermione, mortified.

"You and your brother were searching for the Stone?" asked Harry.

Ed smiled bitterly. "That was a long time ago. I no longer want it now that I know the truth." He faced Harry. "Is this what you called me here for?"

"We thought that since you know about the Philosopher's Stone you could help us protect it from Voldemort," he replied. "We don't think he knows how to get past Fluffy yet, so it should be safe for now."

"Fluffy?"

"Let's just say that Hagrid has an unusual habit of taking in extremely dangerous creatures as pets," stated Harry.

Edward did not ask who Hagrid was.

"If you honestly wish to protect the Stone, I'll gladly help you out. However, I've got detention with McGonagall tomorrow, so I won't be much help if you've got anything planned," Edward told them, displaying the crumpled letter he had received earlier."

"It's not a problem as long as Professor Dumbledore's around," Harry reassured. "He's still Voldemort's greatest enemy, so Snape wouldn't dare make a move while Dumbledore's here."

"What makes you suspect Snape?" Ed asked curiously. "Never mind, it's fine as long as you're sure that the Stone is well-guarded."

"Don't worry, we should have no trouble anytime soon."

* * *

**Insert disclaimer again. Thanks to all who read and reviewed.**


	5. Chapter 5

Under the strict supervision of Professor McGonagall, Edward was scrubbing graffiti off of the Transfigurations desks when suddenly Harry burst into the room. "Professor," he gasped, "You've got to get Dumbledore! It's an emergency! Sna-, someone's going to try to steal the Philosopher's Stone!"

McGonagall froze. "How did you three find out about the Stone?" She turned to Ed accusingly. "Did you tell them?"

"Nope," he replied unflinchingly. "They found out on their own."

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but the headmaster has left on an urgent trip to London."

"He's not at Hogwarts?" cried Hermione. "Oh, Professor, you've got to help! There's nothing left to protect the Stone!"

"I thought you said he didn't know how to get past Fluffy," Ed interjected.

"Hagrid's not very good at keeping secrets," Ron explained.

"I assure you, the Stone is perfectly safe," McGonagall replied confidently.

"But Professor - " Harry protested.

Edward stood up. "If the Stone is in danger, we should get going. Sorry, Professor, but I'll have to finish this later."

McGonagall stared after the disappearing youth. "Well, I never!" she declared, outraged.

--

"It's just up there," Harry panted. Ed raced ahead and tried to open the door, but it refused to budge. He was just about to transmute the lock away when Hermione reached the top of the steps as well. She pointed her wand at the doorknob and recited, "Alohomora!" As the door swung open, Edward made a mental note to learn a few spells when he got the chance. He stepped through the doorway only to find himself face to face with an enormous three-headed dog.

"What's a chimera doing in this place?" he whispered, astonished.

"Edward, meet Fluffy," Harry introduced.

"That's Fluffy?"

Harry nodded. "We told you Hagrid liked unusual pets."

Whirling around Ed said harshly,"Chimera are not pets! They're highly illegal transmutations! Just what kind of friends are you making?" he near-shouted.

"Hagrid has done nothing wrong," Harry seethed, temper quickly rising. "You have no right to accuse him of breaking the law when you don't know the rules yourself. You haven't even met Hagrid! In case you haven't noticed," he ranted, "Hogwarts is not your home. Things here are different from your world."

"You're right," Ed agreed, "They're not the same, and I'd do anything to go back."

"It's a good thing Snape was here already or Fluffy would have ripped you both to shreds by now," Hermione interrupted, pointing to the self-playing harp. "While the two of you are arguing, Ron and I are going to go save the Stone from You-Know-Who. Are you coming or not?"

Ed glared at Harry one last time before shoving both hands deep in his pockets. "Whether you kids decide to come or not doesn't really matter to me. I'm sure I can handle this guy by myself."

"You're wrong, Edward," Hermione gently contradicted. "You know barely anything about magic, and you're planning to take on a teacher alone. You'll have no chance."

"So are you three," he pointed out. "Besides, I have the advantage because I can do alchemy and he can't." Being part of the military for a couple years didn't hurt either, Ed added mentally as he climbed down the trapdoor.

"That's weird," said Ron, shifting his feet experimentally. "The ground feels all soft and squishy."

Hermione gasped in alarm. "Nobody move!" she cried. "This is the Devil's Snare!"

"The _what?"_ Ed screamed, struggling to release his leg from the plant's slippery vines, which had wrapped around him when he wasn't looking.

"The Devil's Snare!" she repeated. "Professor Sprout taught about it in Herbology earlier this year."

"That's great, but just tell us how to get rid of it!" he shouted back, fighting off its snaking tendrils.

"I can't remember!" she moaned dispiritedly. "Wait - fire! That's it! The Devil's snare hates fire!"

Perfect, thought Edward. He clapped his hands together and grinned. "I've always wanted to try this."

Slamming the palms of his hands onto the writhing floor, he transmuted part of the vines into a small chunk of flint. As he altered the oxygen concentration of the air, he turned the protective plate of his automail arm into a blade and struck the flint. Sparks flew up and immediately ignited the air, engulfing the Snare in bright yellow flames.

"That was amazing!" Ron exclaimed, vigorously brushing off the once-deadly plant's ashes.

"It was rather impressive," admitted Hermione. "How did you do that?"

"It's just a little trick I borrowed from the Colonel," Ed replied. See, Roy, I _can_ learn, he smirked mentally, unconsciously smiling.

Harry noticed something. "What's wrong with your hand?"

Too late, Edward realized that because of the transmutation, his automail arm was now prominently displayed. Hiding it behind him, he realized that these kids would not likely let him off without an explanation, which he had no intention of giving. "It's not important."

Unfortunately, he was right about the explanation. "Don't try that with me," Harry snapped. "I know there's something going on."

"You may be right," Ed answered, undaunted. "However, this is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. The Stone is still in danger."

Grudgingly, the three followed him into the next room.

Remembering his recent experience with the Devil's Snare, Edward proceeded cautiously. Once his eyes adjusted to the lighting difference, he realized that he stood in front of a giant chessboard. The door and only way out stood on the other side.

"I think we have to play to get across," said Harry slowly.

Ron nodded. "I'm better at chess than you two, so I'll play."

Ed sighed irritably. "You know, you guys are really stupid." Clapping his hands, he transmuted the floor upward, sending the chessboard soaring high above their heads, leaving only a small tunnel to the opposite side of the room. "If the top is blocked, try going underneath."

"That works, too, I guess," Ron mumbled.

The following room held only a table, upon which were several glass bottles, each containing a potion. As soon as each of them had passed through the doorway, flames sprang up, blocking their path. From their impossible colors, Ed guessed that these flames were made by magic.

"Well, we can't go forward, and we can't go back," he murmured. "Let's see what this place has us doing now." Striding over to the table, with one gloved hand he picked up a bit of parchment lying next to one of the bottles. Scanning quickly, he realized that it was a riddle, written in what looked suspiciously like Snape's handwriting.

"Of course, logic!" declared Hermione triumphantly from over his shoulder. "Most wizards haven't got an ounce of logic; they'd never make it out," she informed Edward. Looking back at the paper, she inspected the riddle once again. "Let's see, the one to go forward is..."

"That one," Edward pointed. (He's fast! Hermione thought.) "However, there's barely enough for one person to drink it, let alone four."

Ron turned to his dark-haired friend. "Harry, you should take it."

"Me? But what about you?"

"We'll go back and try to get some help," Hermione said. "Maybe one of the other teachers will listen to us."

Ed wondered why they didn't think of that before they got here.

"Go on, Harry," she coaxed. "You're the only one who can stop him."

Obediently Harry took the tiny bottle and gulped down the potion. Before he could lose his courage, he ran to the door, passing easily through the flames.

Bending over, Edward picked up the empty bottle from where Harry had dropped it and inspected it carefully. Hermione had just pointed out the return potion to Ron when she noticed the alchemist's strange actions. "What are you going to do with that?" she asked curiously.

"There just might be enough left for me to study the potion's compostition," he replied. "If I can learn what it was made of, I just might be able to recreate some." His face lit up in triumph. "Got it."

Pouring bits of the other potions into the bottle, he explained, "If I alter the composition of these potions, I should be able to come up with what I need."

"But some of those have poison in them!" Hermione protested.

Ed shrugged. "Should be all right."

Hermione stuttered. _"Should be?!"_

Edward swirled the new potion experimentally. Satisfied, he placed the tiny bottle on the table and proceeded with the transmutation. Hermione watched in fascination. Looking at Ed's face, she saw that he was grimacing as if in pain. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her. "I don't mind borrowing from the Colonel, but Kimbley... Still, couldn't be helped. The potion was missing a few minor minerals, so I used some from my own body. Don't worry, I'm not going to die," he added hastily, seeing her horrified look, "It's just a little uncomfortable, that's all."

"What are you going to do with it?" asked Ron.

"You two are going back," Edward ordered. "I'm going to try to keep your friend from getting himself killed."

"Hey! You can't do that! We're his friends!" Ron retorted hotly. "One of us should get to drink that potion!"

Easily dodging Ron's attempts to take the potion by force, Ed reprimanded, "You would only get yourselves killed as well, and for what? Nothing. Worse, you would have let the Stone be stolen, which is something I can never allow."

"You just want it for yourself so you can go back to your own precious world!" shouted Ron angrily.

"I have learned my lesson regarding the Stone," the alchemist replied calmly, not showing any of his own inner turmoil. "Using it only does more harm than good." He brought the bottle to his lips. "That is why I must stop them."

"No!" Ron cried, reaching frantically for the potion, but Edward had already emptied its contents and was slipping out the door.

--

In the center of the final room stood a large, ornate mirror.

* * *

Sorry this chapter is so late. Unfortunately, I'm really good at procrastination. As a consolation, here's a Bleach joke.

**Q: What's Yamamoto-taichou's favorite dessert?**

**A: Lemon meringue pie. (He cooks it with his reiatsu.)**


	6. Chapter 6

Curious, Edward walked up to the mirror. Since there was no other door than the one he had just come through, this was obviously the final room, which meant that this mirror was most likely the thing hiding the Stone, but how?

Something was wrong with his reflection. It didn't move the way it should. It was almost as if it could move on its own.

Somehow, either by coincidence or the reflection could read his thoughts, his other self nodded. Then it grinned and raised its right hand, waving as if to say hello.

A hand made of flesh and blood instead of metal.

"But that's impossible!" Edward muttered, unaware that he spoke aloud.

The other Ed laid his hand on the head of a smiling boy, who looked exactly like Alphonse. Behind them was a woman.

"Mom," he breathed.

She smiled lovingly at her son on the other side of the mirror. This one was no fake, not the homunculus who had toyed with them, but his real mother. The one they had given everything to try to bring back.

Unconsciously Edward reached out, his automail clinking against the glass. "Al," he whispered, long-restrained tears welling up in his eyes. This was all he had ever dreamed of.

A noise startled him out of his reverie. Something whizzed past his cheek and hit the opposite wall. Immediately on alert, Ed spun around and faced his attacker.

Quirrel stood in the corner, holding out his wand threateningly. "So, Edward, have you considered my master's offer?"

"Don't listen to him!" Harry cried at Quirrel's feet, struggling against the ropes that bound him.

"Professor Quirrel. I see you've made it here as well," Ed said calmly.

"You knew it wasn't Snape?"shouted Harry, astonished. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you even have believed me?" Ed pointed out. "Besides, this Voldemort guy seems to have some interest in recruiting me to be part of his troop of loyal dogs."

"Yes, that is correct," said Quirrel, skirting around the alchemist's insult to his master's followers. "Will you join us, Edward?"

"Dunno, I'm still thinking about it," he replied casually.

"What?!" Harry roared, enraged. "What's there to think about? He's a murderer! _He killed my parents!"_

"I just have your word for it, don't I? The truth is, I don't know much about this place, so I don't know who's lying, or who's right."

"Why you-"

Quirrel waved his wand at Harry and Silenced any further remarks. "My master is being very generous, Edward. You would do well to heed my advice and accept his offer before it becomes too late."

Carelessly swinging a decorative silver pocket watch, Ed replied, "If this guy is as generous as you say, then what would I be getting in return?"

Quirrel seemed taken aback. "Well, I-"

"After all, equivalent exchange has played a major role in my life, so I see no reason to discard it now," Edward continued, stuffing the watch back in his pocket. "If I help you get the Stone, what are you going to give me?" Without taking his eyes off Quirrel, Ed pointed to the mirror. "Perhaps you can start by explaining what this mirror is."

The professor's eyes gleamed. "The Mirror of Erised!" he exclaimed softly. He strode eagerly to the center of the room where the mirror stood, oblivious to the presence of either Edward or Harry. "The mirror that shows what you most desire," he recited, caressing its glassy surface. Gazing into its depths, he murmured, "I see myself holding the stone; I'm presenting it to my master. But how do I get it?"

--

Out of the corner of his eye Ed noticed Harry straining to position himself in front of the mirror. Harry stared at it for a moment, then a look of realization dawned on his face briefly before he noticed the alchemist watching him.

"Use the boy," Voldemort hissed from the back of Quirrel's head.

"Come here, Potter!" commanded Quirrel imperiously. Harry, although standing, seemed unable to move, his eyes scrunched tight as if he were in extreme pain. "I said come here!" Quirrel repeated, raising his wand. Ed had a bad feeling it wouldn't just be more ropes he would be casting.

Rushing to protect the boy, he cried, "Harry, look out!"

He hit the stunned teen in a flying tackle and pushed him out of the way just as Quirrel called out, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry's eyes widened as the spell impacted on the alchemist's left leg, shattering the automail into a thousand pieces.

Edward cursed quietly, inspecting the damage. "That's going to be a pain to fix." He glowered at an astonished Quirrel. "I take it that's the infamous killing curse. Good thing it hit this leg or I'd be dead by now." And probably back at the gate with Al, his mind whispered. He told it to be quiet.

Quirrel smiled emotionlessly. "True, but I can't have you using alchemy to get in my way," he said, casting the same rope-binding spell on Edward that he had used not too long ago on Harry. However, unlike the dark-haired boy, Edward's arms were tied on either side of his body, so he was unable to bring them together to make a circle.

"Now that you are unable to interfere, I can get the Stone without being distracted," the professor smirked, turning his focus to the dazed Harry Potter.

Ed smiled secretly. Fortunately, Quirrel, along with everyone else at Hogwarts, was completely ignorant of how alchemy actually worked. Harry watched curiously as Edward traced the outline of a transmutation circle in the dust. The boy was amazed as a blade grew from the alchemist's right arm, easily slicing through his bonds.

Quirrel turned in surprise to see Edward leaping on his remaining leg to slash at Quirrel's turbaned head. Backing away from the desperate youth, Quirrel fired another spell defensively. "Expelliarmus!"

Ed soared backward several feet from the force of the spell. He screamed in agony as his arm and only weapon disconnected and flew to the other side of the room. Gripping the empty metal socket, he clenched his teeth to stop from crying out as the pain from his severed nerves overwhelmed him.

"That should teach you to try stabbing me in the back. You forget, Elric, that I have eyes in the back of my head," Quirrel remarked. "And now, Potter, It's your turn," he continued dramatically. "You have the Stone, don't you? Yes, I see that you do. Give it to me," he demanded, reaching for the boy's pocket.

Harry, his head feeling as if it would burst from the pain in his scar, desperately attacked the face swirling before his eyes, headbutting Quirrel squarely in the nose.

"Augh! You stupid boy!" he screamed as his face began to blister painfully. "What have you done?"

Through sheer force of will Harry twisted his hands free and gripped the flailing professor's wand hand, holding on for dear life.

"It burns! _It burns! _My lord, help me!" Quirrel cried pleadingly. However, Voldemort, seeing that his servant failed, had left Quirrel to fend for himself.

Edward, watching this through the red haze of agony, siezed his chance. Drawing another transmutation circle with his trembling left hand, he whispered, "This should teach you to fight an alchemist."

Activating the circle, he sent dozens of spikes shooting up fom the ground into Quirrel's body. The professor gave a bloody gasp of surprise at this unexpected turn of events before falling limply against the stone that impaled him. Harry saw none of this, however, having long since fainted dead away.

--

Edward's shoulder burned. He hadn't felt pain like this for a while. He fought to stay conscious, but it was a losing battle. The last thing he remembered before his awareness began to fade was Professor Dumbledore standing over him with a concerned expression on his face.

* * *

**Thanks to those who read and reviewed already. This story will be continuing, though I'll be doing _Spirit of the Law_ at the same time. These two stories will have no connection. Enjoy the next chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

Edward groaned and tried to sit up. Unfortunately, he had forgotton that his automail was destroyed by Quirrel's spell, and as a result was thrown off balance. He grabbed the edge of the bed for support, but the flimsy hospital cot refused to hold his weight, tipping over with a deafening crash.

"You seem quite energetic today," spoke a voice from the corner.

Ed looked up from his awkward position on the floor. "Professor Dumbledore."

"Hello, Edward," he replied eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're still down here, but I felt it was best not to move you too far. Besides," he added, gesturing to the alchemist's well-demolished leg, "there are far too many prying eyes in the hospital wing, and I thought that you would prefer to keep your secrets hidden for now."

"Thank you for your concern, sir," Ed said sincerely. Tentatively getting to his feet, or foot, he asked, "What about my automail?"

"If by that you mean your mechanical limbs, then they should be right over there," said Dumbledore, pointing to a small pile of shrapnel on the stone floor. "Poppy wanted to get rid of it, but I told her they belonged to you, so you should be the one to decide what to do with that mess."

"I'm glad you stopped her," murmured Ed. "They're kinda irreplacable right now." Half-dragging, half-hopping, Edward made his way over to the pile of badly twisted metal. His arm lay next to it in a comic attempt to make an effort at cleaning up. Carefully Edward shoved the automail back into its socket, hissing with pain as the nerves reconnected to their wire counterparts.

"Does it always hurt so much?" questioned Dumbledore sympathetically.

"Yeah," he managed. "Every time." After a moment Edward adjusted his sitting position. "Good thing my arm was undamaged," he remarked. "Makes things a lot easier."

Edward brought his two hands together with a loud clapping noise that echoed in the near-empty room. Placing his hands on either side of the heap of scrap metal, he transmuted the bits back into their former shape, carefully reconstructing his automail piece by piece.

"Magnificent," complimented Dumbledore. "You truly are a remarkable alchemist."

"Thanks," replied Edward, wincing as he reconnected his leg. "Although I don't suppose you've had much to compare it to."

"Not at all."

Ed froze. "What did you say?"

"I suppose you heard from Harry, Ron, and Hermione that I am good friends with a certain Nicholas Flamel, creator of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Yeah," Edward glowered. "I remember hearing something like that."

"My friend Nicholas has been good enough to demonstrate for me on occasion some simple alchemy," the headmaster explained. "I must say, I am not very skilled in the art, though Nicholas tried to teach me a few of its basic principles."

"Like Equivalent Exchange?" Edward asked pointedly.

"Yes, Nicholas did mention that one, though he seemed to feel that it was rather inaccurate," Dumbledore mused. "Much like yourself, Edward, if you don't mind my saying so."

"He''s nothing like me," Edward seethed. "Anyone in their right mind who would willing create a Philosopher's Stone is nothing more than the lowest human being in the world, this one or any world."

"Now, Edward," Dumbledore remprimanded, "there is no reason for you to condemn this person for what he has done. The truth is, when I told him that there was another alchemist staying at Hogwarts, and that the boy had been injured, Nicholas immediately rushed over to see if you were all right. In fact," the headmaster continued gesturing to a man behind him, "Nicholas is here right now."

Edward had prepared himself for the worst, but there was no way he could have been prepared for what he saw next.

_"Hoenheim?!"_

"Hello, Edward," he said. "It's been a while, son."

For the next few moments Edward had no idea what to say. Then his rage overcame him and he had too much he wanted to say to this man, who had destroyed their lives from the very beginning. He was so furious he could only manage to repeat, "You...you..._you...!" _

Rage fueling his strength, Edward punched as hard as he could at that hated face._ "YOU!!"_

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore restrained him. "Edward, I must ask you not to display such violence," he said firmly. "Nicholas is my friend and I want you to treat him with the same respect you have shown toward me."

"Friend? He's not your friend!" Ed cried, thrashing futilely against Dumbledore's binding spell. "He's a murderer! He teamed up with Dante four hundred years ago to create a Philosopher's Stone. All the people that died just so their souls could be used in the transmutation - _and for what?" _he shouted furiouly. "So he could steal some guy's body and live a couple more years! And if _that _wasn't enough, he did made another one in Lior!"

"Although it does not erase my sin," Hoenheim said quietly, "I was not responsible for what happened to that city."

"Then what _were_ you doing?" Ed retorted.

"I tried to stop her."

"By what, creating another stone on this side of the Gate?" he returned angrily. "I take back what I said earlier. You aren't human at all. You're _lower_ than the lowest human. You're even lower than those Homunculi you created."

Hanging his head, Hoenheim answered, "What you say may be true, but I have tried to do some good on this side. The alchemists of this world managed to find a way to create a stone without the use of human lives, but by using the red water instead. Unfortunately the stone it created was very small, hardly much bigger than it is now, and its alchemic powers were weak. By using the stone I hoped to prolong this body's decay long enough to discover a way to create a true stone using thier method, but after all this time I still have not found it."

Pulling the Stone out of his pocket, Hoenheim presented it to an astonished Edward. "I once left this in my good friend Professor Dumbledore's safekeeping. Now I offer it to you."

Uncertain, Edward demanded, "Well, what do you want me to do with it? A Stone of this quality can never get me back."

"It doesn't matter. You can decide to use it, do nothing with it, or even destroy it. Whichever it is, I'm sure you will make the best choice, son."

When Dumbledore released him, Edward reluctantly took the proffered gem. Decisively he dropped it on the ground and slammed one bootheel down on it once, twice, three times. All that was left were a few sparkling chips which melted and were quickly absorbed by the thick layer of dirt on the floor. "Three strikes and you're out," he remarked bitterly.

Hoenheim let out a long sigh of relief. "It was for the best." Smiling weakly, he said, "I'm glad you're all right, Edward."

Then he left.

Still furious and unable to properly express his rage otherwise, Edward proceeded to punch the Mirror of Erised, sending shards of glass flying several feet in all directions.

* * *

**One of my more angsty chapters. Hope you enjoyed. (Don't worry, Hoenheim will be showing up again later.)**

**Thanks for reads and reviews. **

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Harry was munching contentedly on one of the millions of candies his friends had sent to cheer him up when he heard someone shuffle quietly into the room. Looking up, he was surprised to see that it was Edward.

"So," the alchemist said softly, pointing to the mountain of gifts, "you must have quite a few admirers."

"My friends," Harry explained, swallowing his chocolate. "They heard about what happened, and I guess they wanted to make up for not being there to help. Professor Dumbledore says that Fred and George even tried to send me a toilet seat."

"So he's been here already?" murmured Edward.

Harry nodded. "He told me that although Voldemort failed this time, he'll be back again to find another way to get his body back."

I know how that feels, Ed thought bitterly. Then he hated himself for comparing himself to Voldemort. They were _nothing _alike, he told himself firmly.

Harry continued. "He also told me that Flamel had decided to destroy the Stone." Ed immediately recalled the feeling of his boot crushing the delicate red jewel. "Professor Dumbledore seemed to think it was best."

Fiddling with one of the candy wrappers on the table of goodies, Ed asked casually, "Now that this guy is at large again, what are you going to do, Harry?"

Pushing up his glasses, Harry sighed, "I don't know." He leaned back against his pillow. "Be ready to fight him when he gets back, I suppose." Then he looked down at his hands. "I never really thanked you, Edward, for helping us, for saving me."

Edward rubbed his head, smiling awkwardly. "You don't have to thank me, really."

"But I want to," Harry insisted. "You've saved my life twice now: once in the Forbidden Forest and again just a few days ago. I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't come to Hogwarts."

Ed was about to protest, but he realized it was true.

"You barely know us and you talk all the time about how this is not your world, and still you came with us to save the Stone."

A sharp pang of guilt shot through Ed. The boy had no reason to praise him. He had only helped because he didn't want anyone else to have the Stone. And what would you have done with it? he demanded of himself. Use it to get back home? You don't even know if Al's still alive! You don't even know if Winry's still alive. For that matter, you don't know if you ever _can _get back! Why risk your life for three foolish children and a Stone that wouldn't work?

He didn't have an answer.

Placing the candy back on the pile, Ed headed for the door. "Hope you feel better."

--

Ed sighed and leaned against the closed door of the infirmary. He hadn't meant to walk out on the kid. He just couldn't take anymore. Though they looked nothing alike, the boy reminded him too strongly of Alphonse.

"Harry is recovering quite nicely, I think," remarked Dumbledore, appearing suddenly. "He has already gotten over the shock of his experience."

Ed was not in a mood for pleasantries. "What do you want?"

"Now, Edward..." Dumbledore said in a gently reprimanding voice.

The alchemist sighed. "What do you want, sir?"

The headmaster was not satisfied with this response, but he made no further comment. "You seem to have taken a liking to young Harry."

"You can't help feeling sorry for a kid who doesn't know what he's doing," Edward replied, trying to brush it off.

Becoming serious, Dumbledore pressed on. "There's more to it than that, Edward. You truly care for him, don't you? As if he were your own brother."

Ed did not reply for a long time. "Yeah," he whispered. "Just like Al."

Dumbledore relaxed a bit. "Thank you Edward. Now I can ask you."

"Ask me what?" Ed said, confused.

Placing a hand on Ed's good shoulder, the Headmaster stared the alchemist directly in the eyes. "Edward, I have a request to make of you. It is very important, and you alone are able to perform it."

Still puzzled, Ed asked, "What sort of request?"

With a solemn expression, Dumbledore told him. "I want you to protect Harry Potter."

Ed was stunned. "What?"

"As I'm sure Harry has already told you, Voldemort will return. When he does, Harry will need someone to guide him on the right path, to protect him. Will you do that, Edward?" Dumbledore entreated. "Will you guard him with your life?"

Holding up his hands defensively, Ed tried to calm him down, but Dumbledore would not be dissuaded. "Will you do it, Edward? I'm depending on you. I must have your answer."

Shuffling his feet, embarrassed, Ed mumbled, "Well, when you put it that way, I can't very well say no, now can I? Fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you once again, Edward," Dumbledore said, visibly relieved. "Now, you should probably get down to the Great Hall. The end of year feast will begin soon."

Ed lingered in the hallways a while longer, thinking over the Headmaster's request. Harry was incredibly important for some reason, but why? Perhaps Dumbledore thought that only Harry could defeat that guy, which would explain why he allowed Harry to face him, but why Harry? It was very strange, the way things worked here. Alchemy was a lot simpler.

By the time Edward made his way down to the Hall, the feast was nearly over. For some reason the entire Griffindor table was cheering. Apparently they had won something.

--

Harry was packing his trunk when Ed knocked on the open door. "May I come in?"

"You know you don't have to knock to come in here," Harry told him, returning to his packing. "This is your place too."

"Doesn't seem right," Ed explained sheepishly. Changing the subject completely, he announced, "Dumbledore wants me to stay at your house."

Harry froze in the middle of folding a pair of stray socks. "My house? Has he told you about the Dursleys? They don't want anything to do with magic, so why send you there?"

"Dunno. It's Dumbledore's orders, though."

"Well, let me warn you now. They hate magic, they hate wizards, and they hate me. They'll hate you too when they find out you go to Hogwarts."

"I can handle it," Ed assured. "I've met their type before."

Harry was skeptical, but he agreed to obey Dumbledore. "The only problem is, underage wizards aren't supposed to use magic outside of school. If we do, we could be expelled."

"What's that got to do with me?" Ed asked, somehow already knowing the answer.

"You probably shouldn't use it during the summer. You know, your alchemy," Harry said reluctantly.

Edward paused. Alchemy came to him as easily as breathing, perhaps easier. To give it up would be like giving up his right arm...again.

"If that's what it takes," he replied calmly.

Harry was surprised Ed took it so well. "Are you sure you can do that?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Besides, I'll do research for a while to see if I can't find a way to get back. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Okay..." Harry closed the lid of his trunk and picked it up. "Come on, I'll show you to the train."

* * *

**End of the first year, finally. Ed sticks around for a while, but I won't say how long (spoilers). Enjoy!**


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

The following summer was perhaps the most interesting that Edward had ever experienced. When they left the train and Platform 9 and 3/4, Harry pointed out a group of three people standing in the middle of traffic and glaring severely at any who even glanced at them strangely. They were the Dursleys.

Of course, they were none too happy to find out that Harry had brought another of "his lot" home with him. They were even less happy to hear that Dumbledore himself was insisting on Ed's stay with them. Having no other choice, they reluctantly drove both boys back to Privet Drive. Ed soon found out that all mention of magic was absolutely forbidden. The Dursleys couldn't stand the thought of any of their neighbors finding out about Harry, or Edward for that matter. The two boys were mostly confined to the house, and stayed out of the way as much as they could by remaining behind the closed door of Harry's bedroom. It worked pretty well, for a while.

Edward was flipping through Harry's first year textbooks for the seventh time, and Harry was lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. A sharp crack startled both of them back to full alertness.

Ed shut the textbook, staring at the corner of the room in surprise. "Harry, what is that?" he asked quietly, his voice both curious and dangerous.

"I am Dobby, a house-elf," squeaked the tiny, pointy eared thing. "I have come to warn Harry Potter of a great danger. He-"

"So, not a chimera?" Ed clarified.

"Sir?"

"Never mind. Harry, what's going on here?" he demanded of the dark-haired boy.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. There's a lot of things about the world of magic that I still don't understand. That's why I go to Hogwarts."

The house-elf interjected. "That is what Dobby has been trying to say, sirs. Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts this year."

Ed looked at Dobby, surprised. Harry's reaction was a little more severe.

"What do you mean, 'not go to Hogwarts'? Hogwarts is my life!"

"Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts," Dobby insisted. "He will be in great danger!"

Ed had been fiddling with his watch, but at this he immediately became interested. "What kind of danger?"

The house-elf's face scrunched up, as if he were trying to make a difficult decision, and suddenly he rushed over to Harry's desk and began slamming his head into it. Harry cried out, alarmed, and Edward swiftly picked up the elf by his ragged clothing, preventing further self-mutilation.

"Dobby apologizes, sirs," it spoke shamefully, "but Dobby cannot speak ill of his masters, so Dobby must punish himself, sirs. It is the same for all house-elves."

Ed glowered at the weepy elf. "That doesn't mean that it was necessary to do that."

"I think," Harry said slowly, "that he means there's an enchantment preventing him from speaking. Is that right, Dobby?"

It nodded vigorously, bouncing in Ed's mechanical grasp. "But Dobby had to come, to warn Harry Potter."

"Well, thanks, Dobby, I guess, but I'm not going to stay here. I can't. Hogwarts is where I belong."

"Then Dobby must make you stay," it said sadly. Snapping his fingers, Dobby disappeared instantly. Ed's fist was now closed on nothing but thin air, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"How did he do that?" the alchemist demanded in surprise. "Where did he go?"

"Apparation," Harry said, just as amazed. Then he remembered what Dobby had said about forcing him to stay.

A loud scream echoed downstairs, followed shortly by the thundering of Vernon's angry feet on the stairs. The door swung open, revealing his livid expression.

"I hope you're happy, boy," he said furiously to Harry, completely ignoring Edward's presence. "Because of your little stunt, I have lost a very profitable business opportunity. You are NOT to come out of this room again, do you understand?"

'But it wasn't me!" Harry protested uselessly. "It was a house-elf!"

"I'll not have any of your nonsense, boy. You'll not worm your way out of this one, and you'll not leave this room again!" Vernon shouted, slamming the door shut.

There was an awkward silence. "That went well," Ed remarked ironically.

--

Not long afterward the sounds of drilling could be heard outside the bedroom door and later the window. Bars had been installed to make sure that Harry and Ed really couldn't leave that room. Edward could easily have transmuted the bars away, or for that matter broken the lock on the door, but since Harry wasn't in any immediate danger, he figured they'd be fine. Besides, thanks to Dobby, the Dursley's now knew about the ban on underage magic during the summer, and Harry didn't want to risk Ed's alchemy setting off any alarms in the Ministry of Magic.

However, one night, they had a visitor. Well, technically three.

Edward had fallen asleep at Harry's desk, a half-read book still open underneath his head, when a rattling at the window roused him. Getting to his feet, he saw that Harry had awoken as well. Motioning for the boy to stay where he was, he sidled up to the window out of the line of sight, holding his hands to his chest mere inches away from each other. As Harry requested, he wouldn't use alchemy unless he had to, but he would be ready to use it if necessary.

There was a scraping sound of metal against one of the bars, and then someone rapped at the glass. Ed, deciding that the best option was to discover the person's identity, peeked through the window. Then he grinned.

"It's okay," he told Harry, relaxing. "It's your friend, Ron."

"Ron?" he said incredulously, rushing over to the window. Sure enough, it was him. The red-haired Weasley waved at his friend.

"I've brought Fred and George with me, too," he informed them. "I even borrowed Dad's flying car!"

"A flying car?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, I'll explain later. We heard that the Dursley's locked you up, so we've come to get you out of there," Ron said, showing the metal hook attached to the bars. Climbing back in the car, he said something to the twin who was driving. The twin nodded and revved the engine. The car shot forward and tugged against the securely fastened bars, straining to pull them loose.

Seeing that Harry was focused entirely on the miracle of the flying car, Ed decided to help out a bit. Unobtrusively he pushed forward on one of the bars with his automail, causing the metal to creak and, with the help of the car, eventually pull free of its fastenings in the side of the house.

All the noise had alerted the Dursleys. "We'd better get out of here," said Ron, face paling.

Harry had also heard the all-too-familiar stomping on the stairs and was scrambling to get in the car. Ed handed the boys Harry's hastily-packed luggage and had one foot on the windowsill when the door burst open.

_"POTTER!!"_

Now seriously concerned for his well-being, Ed reached for the twin's outstretched hand. Vernon, fueled by rage, made his way across the room with astonishing speed for his size and tugged hard on the alchemist's dangling leg, gripping with all his might. "You'll not go to that nutter school this time!" Vernon screamed at Harry. "You can't take him!"Ed tried to resist, but the man was surprisingly strong.

There must have been a rip or something, and all the pressure on it just made it worse. With a loud tearing sound, a large patch of fabric pulled away in Vernon's hands. His rage was slowly replaced by astonishment at what he saw.

Twisting, Ed raised his other foot. "You picked the wrong leg," he said, grinning wickedly and planting his foot in Vernon's fat face. Caught completely off guard, Ed's attack landed squarely, and Dursley would not regain consciousness for several hours.

"Nice one, Ed," Ron congratulated, helping Ed into the car.

"Thanks," he said nonchalantly. "Where we headed?"

"To the Burrow," Fred told him. "That's where we live."

Ed was ajusting his sitting position so his automail wouldn't accidently show. "What do you mean, 'the Burrow'?"

"You'll find out," Ron promised.

* * *

**A bit of editing was done, so sorry for those who read it first. Thanks to those who gave (and give) constructive criticism. It really helps. I can't think of everything, you know.**

**Thanks also go to those who reviewed. My number of reviews jumped by about 20 for just last chapter. **

**It is interesting to note that I have as many reviews as alerts on my story. It almost makes me think that people kinda like it...**

**Enjoy!**


	10. Chapter 10

Fred steered the car into the garage, landed as quietly as he could, and turned off the engine.

"All right, now everyone be quiet," he whispered. "We don't want to wake anyone up."

However, the five boys had no sooner stepped out of the exhausted automobile than a loud voice shot through the silence.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?" thundered a plump red-haired woman from the doorway to the house. "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN STANDING HERE WAITING FOR MY CHILDREN TO RETURN WITH THEIR _FATHER'S CAR?!"_

"Sorry, mum," said one of the twins jauntily, "But we had to go pick up Harry, you see."

"They were starving him," Ron tried to explain, his voice smaller under the crushing gaze of his mother's wrath. "We had to get him out of there."

"It's true," Harry spoke up in defence of his friend. "The Dursleys are like that."

Mrs. Weasley had always kept a secret affection for Harry because of his lost parents, so he held more sway over her than she would ever admit, which Harry must have known full well. Her expression softened almost instantly, rage vanished. "Oh, you poor dear. why don't you come on inside and I'll get you some dinner," she told him, ushering the helpless boy into the house in a thoroughly motherlike manner. Turning back to her own sons, she glowered, "now don't think that means you'll be getting out of this one. You three are in a lot of trouble."

At this point she finally noticed Edward climbing out on the other side of the car. "Who is that?" she snapped suspiciously.

Ron glanced over at the alchemist. "Mom, this is Edward, a, er, friend of ours," he explained. Ed was somewhat amused at his use of the word "friend" but made no comment. "He's been staying with Harry, so he had to put up with the Dursleys, too."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Ed offered politely.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed disapprovingly at Edward's long blond hair. "Well, at least you have some manners," she remarked dryly. "Come inside and I'll see if I can find something for you as well. You three, however," she continued, glaring at Fred, George, and Ron, "can go right to bed without supper."

The twins immediately began to clamor in protest. "But that's not fair!" Ron cried. "You let Harry have supper."

"Harry, she retorted, "has been cooped up with _those_ people for weeks and deserves at least a decent meal. The three of you have been here all summer and should know better that to go gallivanting off in your father's enchanted car in the middle of the night. Now, upstairs, all of you."

Grudgingly the boys obeyed, their feet shuffling rebelliously on every stair.

Edward followed Mrs. Weasley into her kitchen, where Harry was already starting a second bowl of soup. "Sit here," she instructed, pointing to one of the many chairs crowded around the table. As Ed did so, several dishes and an enormous pot of soup flew through the air, landing neatly on the table before filling a bowl with the soup and then flying off again. Noticing his startled reaction, Mrs. Weasley commented aside to Harry, "New to magic, is he?"

Harry nodded. "Edward says he's an alchemist," he explained around a mouthful of soup. Mrs. Weasley seemed not to notice Harry's lack of manners. "He didn't even come to Hogwarts until late last year."

"Is that so?" she mused, interested. "I didn't know alchemists still existed."

Edward bristled at the jibe but quickly calmed himself. Standing up, he asked evenly, "I'm kind of tired. Do you have a place I could sleep?"

Mrs. Weasley seemed surprised at the sudden change of subject but merely answered, "There's a couch over there in the corner. I would offer you Ron's room, but I expect that Harry would want to stay there. Besides, we have a ghoul in the attic, and he tends to make a lot of noise at night."

"The couch is fine, thank you," Edward replied. "Oh, and you're right about that ghoul. I don't like ghosts very much."

Some of them wore faces he recognized.

---

The following morning was havoc. First, Ron's younger sister woke up early and discovered Edward sleeping on the couch. She immediately screamed to her mother that a stranger was in the house. Her shrieking woke up the rest of the household, including Harry and Ron, who sleepily explained that, no, he wasn't a stranger, he was a friend of Harry's and would be staying for a while. Then Mr. Weasley, who had only just come home and hour before, walked into the room and demanded to know what was going on. Once explanations were made yet again, Mr. Weasley went back to his room to sleep, and Mrs. Weasley started making breakfast since no one else felt much like sleeping after Ginny's ear-splitting wake-up call.

Apparently, that sort of thing happened in the Burrow every day. Compared to the slow crawl of Dursley time, in this place the time seemed to rush past, gone before you knew it came. Harry spent most of his free minutes with his friend Ron, talking about magic and school and quidditch and avoiding some of the twins' more dangerous pranks.

Edward, on the other hand, spent his hours perusing the Weasley family library. Mr. Weasley's books were mainly about people called Muggles, which seemed to indicate the non-magical population of the world, but there were also several old spellbooks with instructions for casting simple charms. If he were ever to return to his home, Edward knew that he would have to study magic, and the only way to do that was to start at the beginning.

The spells seemed simple enough to perform, but whenever Edward tried to cast one the magic eluded him. It was a daunting task. Finally, one day Ed became so frustrated that he threw the pillow he was attempting to levitate across the room, barely missing a delicate hand-painted vase.

"Trouble?" came a voice behind him. Startled, Ed whirled around to find Mr. Weasley standing just a few feet away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Mr. Weasley apologized.

Ed forced himself to relax. "No, it's okay. I was just about finished anyway."

Mr. Weasley glanced at the floor thoughtfully. "You know, Edward," he began, "When I was your age, I had trouble learning magic, It was a little embarrassing, of course, to be unable to perform even the simplest Summoning Charm in front of my family, my friends, and later, my classmates. Everyone was convinced I was a Squib, completely unable to use magic. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't do it. I would often practice by myself for hours, but it didn't seem to help."

Even though he was pretty sure he knew where this was going, Ed was interested. "So, what fixed it?"

"I found a teacher," Mr. Weasley said simply.

That was not what he had been expecting. "A teacher, huh?" Ed smiled nostalgically. "I guess that makes sense. Even Al and I could only study so much by ourselves. Maybe magic and alchemy aren't that different after all."

Mr. Weasley respectfully remained silent, keeping his questions to himself.

Returning to the present, Ed continued, "So, are you saying that you'll teach me how to do magic?"

"If you like," replied Mr. Weasley. "I won't teach you if you don't want me to."

For a moment Edward's pride as an experienced alchemist resurfaced, whispering that he had no need for a teacher; he had alchemy, and that was enough... But he swallowed it back.

"Mr. Weasley," Edward said, "I would be honored if you would take me for your student."

Mr. Weasley smiled and clapped a friendly hand on the blond boy's left shoulder. "At least until the school term begins," he amended. "But actually, Edward, that's not why I came here. The truth is, I have a favor to ask of you."

---

"What are those?" Edward inquired warily, pointing to the potato-like object struggling in Fred's hands.

"It's a gnome," Mr. Weasley told him. "Rather pesky creatures, I daresay, always destroying our poor garden. Every now and then we have to get rid of them or the plants won't grow."

"So you want me to help you kill them?" Ed asked, perplexed.

Mr. Weasley blanched. "No!" he cried. "As pesky as they are, I could never bring myself to do that. We just make it hard for them to find their way back. Here," he demonstrated, carefully picking up an escaping gnome, "Watch closely. You just swing the gnome 'round your head, like so, until it's quite dizzy, then you fling them over the hedge as far as you can," he narrated, tossing his gnome well over the hedge's top. "While this may seem a bit harsh, Harry, it really doesn't hurt a bit, and they return faster than you think."

Harry? Ed thought, puzzled. He turned to see the black-haired boy standing next to Ron a short distance away. He hadn't even noticed the two of them coming.

Harry pushed up his glasses and said nothing.

The garden was completely infested with gnomes, so Edward had no problem keeping busy. In a way, he was glad for the work, and it was a welcome distraction from the troubles normally occupying his mind.

"Nice one, Edward!" called Fred encouragingly.

"Yeah, you're a natural gnome-tosser!" George echoed. "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Nope, never," Ed replied, grinning as he wiped his forehead with his left sleeve.

Suddenly their expressions changed. "What, is there something on my face?" he asked jokingly."What's wrong? Guys?"

Ron pointed at the young alchemist's dangling right arm. "Um, Edward? There's a gnome on your hand, you know."

Suprised, Edward looked down to see a spud-like mass clawing at his glove. "Hey!" he protested, "Get off! Winry will kill me if you scratch that up!" He tried to scrape the thing off with his left foot, but despite his best efforts, the gnome refused to be dislodged. Frustrated, Ed tried to stun the gnome by whacking it against his thigh, but the gnome was smarter. As soon as Edward lifted his hand, the gnome let go and landed on Ed's left leg, just above the knee, where the automail ended.

Then it bit him, _hard._

Edward tried to stifle the scream of agony, but part of it escaped. Through the haze of pain he grabbed the gnome with nerveless metal fingers and hurled it with as much force as he could muster. Considering the Weasley's reactions, he must have thrown it pretty far.

"Wow, Edward," spoke a twin in an awed voice. "I've never seen a gnome fly that far before."

Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, had more motherly concerns.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, completely forgetting that she wasn't very fond of the young alchemist. "You poor dear. Does it hurt much?" she asked sympathetically, rushing to tend Edward's injury.

He shoved her back, all good humor gone. "I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't need your help. I can take care of this myself."

"But if you would just let me look at it-" Mrs. Weasley persisted.

Edward again pushed her hands away. "No. I told you, I'm fine," he insisted, clamping his left hand over the wound. As much as it hurt to see her injured expression, he had no choice. He could never let her see his true self, built of metal and pain. He couldn't let any of them see.

Limping off toward the house, he replied, "Go ahead and finish without me."

As he hobbled away, Ed heard George whisper, "It's too bad he got hurt. He was our best gnome-thrower."

Mr. Weasley quietly shushed him.

---

Edward took a small hand towel and ran it under the water. Hobbling over to a nearby chair, he carefully rolled up his dirt-encrusted pant leg, gingerly lifting it away from the drying blood on his thigh. He winced as he placed the damp towel over the wound's opening. Sighing in both relief and pain, he leaned against the chair's wooden headrest.

"That's the problem with automail," Ed murmured to himself, rubbing his knee. "It's incredibly strong, but you can't feel a thing."

"What's automail?"

Ed started to his feet, forgetting the pain. "What are you doing here?" he demanded furiously.

Harry's hand self-consciously flattened the hair over a scar on his forehead. "They sent me to find you," he mumbled. "Mrs. Weasley thought you might have some trouble bandaging that by yourself." His gaze drifted lower, attracted by the dull shine of steel. "What's wrong with your leg?"

"Nothing!" Ed retorted automatically, shoving the black cloth down over his metal skin. "Is that all, or will you be leaving now?" the alchemist asked pointedly.

"It's like that time when we were in the devil's snare, isn't it?" said Harry, slowly remembering. "Your arm looked like that, too. It's like they're not really your limbs at all. How is that possible?"

"I said go, kid. It's not a request."

Harry had a sudden flash of insight. "Does this have something to do with your brother?"

Edward's right hand, which had been gripping the arm of the chair he was sitting in, now clenched so tightly that it split the heavy wood into a thousand splinters with a loud crack.

"LEAVE!" he roared, his voice deafening in the silence.

Harry's eyes were wide with fear, and he scrambled to obey, stumbling over himself in his haste to escape the alchemist's wrath.

Immediately Edward regretted his actions. "Nice work, Ed," he cursed to himself. "You've scared him off. How are you going to protect the kid if he tries to run every time he sees your face?"

* * *

**Sorry about the late update. I've been...busy. I hope you enjoy and merry late Christmas!**


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